


a sparkly purple nightmare

by dragonbagel



Series: so sweet it'll rot your teeth [8]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, don't read if you're emetophobic btw, rhys is a fucking lightweight lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:55:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbagel/pseuds/dragonbagel
Summary: part of rhys knows he should stop drinking so much, what with his ridiculously low alcohol tolerance that the rest of him would deny to the grave. jack really wishes his boyfriend listened to that tiny voice of reason.based off the tumblr prompt: rhys getting VERY drunk and jack has to clean him up and take care of him all while rhys is saying cheesy shit and throwing up on jack





	a sparkly purple nightmare

"Holy shit, Rhys, how much did you drink?"

Jack grunted under Rhys' weight, the man in question simply hiccuping as he let Jack drag him towards his apartment. Yeah, he was strong; but Rhys was a weird mess of long bony limbs looped around Jack's shoulders and threatening to collapse onto the immaculately cleaned tiled floor Hub of Heroism.

"Not," Rhys said slowly, pausing to hiccup. "Not that much."

Jack rolled his eyes. 'Not that much' amounted to at least three drinks when it came to Rhys (he'd reveal the actual number if it had been any less). Three drinks would've gotten Jack buzzed, maybe even tipsy; but Rhys made up for his boyfriend's high alcohol tolerance by being the very definition of a lightweight.

"It was only a few of those sparkly purple ones!" Rhys added in protest, as if that somehow helped his case.

For the record, it most definitely did not. Rhys still didn't seem to grasp the concept of fruity, sugary drinks containing actual alcohol content, and never had any issue chugging them. Apparently, August's newest grape-flavored concoction had piqued his interest, and now Jack's already tired muscles (and checking account) were paying for it.

"Come on," he groaned, lugging Rhys alongside him. "We've gotta get you home, kiddo."

Rhys whined and tightened his hold on Jack. "I don't want to--" he hiccuped again. "Don't want to go home."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Tough luck, buttercup. I'm not having you puking all over my place."

Rhys huffed indignantly. "I'm not gonna-- oh wait shit why is everything spinning..."

He broke off from where he'd been latching onto Jack's side and stumbled a few steps, pressing his cybernetic arm to his forehead as his flesh arm swayed in a poor excuse for balance. He held his hand out to stop Jack when he tried to approach him, not wanting his boyfriend to be stuck in the crossfire if his drinks ended up making a reappearance (which, let it be known, was not going to happen, because Rhys was an adult that could handle his liquor goddamnit).

"Christ, Rhys," Jack said, massaging his temples in frustration. "Come _on_ , we're almost there."

"B-but I don't..." Rhys slurred, losing his thought midway through the sentence.

"Don't wanna go home? Yeah, you mentioned that," Jack replied, feeling disgustingly more like a minivan-driving parent of a whiny three-year-old than a, what was the word? Oh right: Adult boyfriend of another adult whom he had sex with on a regular basis.

"Not that," Rhys said, practically beaming at Jack as he managed to stagger to his feet again. "I wanna go to youuur place."

"My place, huh?" Jack asked, quirking his brow as he looped his arm under Rhys' shoulders again. "Why's that?"

"The bed's soft," Rhys said, ignoring (or, more likely, too drunk to process) Jack's amused snort. "And the shower's nice."

"I'd hope so, considering how much it cost," Jack said, using the conversation as an oddly charming distraction while he continued herding Rhys towards his apartment. He prayed Rhys' muscle-y friend would be there, that way it wouldn't be him on the direct receiving end of Rhys' hangover-induced bitching.

"Also you're there."

Jack froze. "Uh, what was that, kitten?"

"I don't wanna leave you," Rhys said, as if that somehow served as an explanation.

"Jeez, Rhysie, didn't think you were the clingy type," Jack chuckled, trying to keep guiding Rhys along so that he wouldn't notice Jack's flush.

"It's true!" Rhys said, turning to look at Jack over his shoulder and tripping over his own feet as he did so. "I love you. Don't you love me?"

The laughable way in which Rhys' words were slurring together shouldn't have struck fear into the very heart of Jack's being, but it was becoming quite difficult for him to ignore the strange fluttering in his chest.

He was in the process of fumbling for a response when Rhys stopped walking all of a sudden, fingers latching onto the side of Jack's shirt as he doubled over and retched all over the floor.

Of course, Rhys didn't remember much of this when he woke up the next morning with one hell of a hangover. He wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up in his bedroom, but he also wasn't going to complain (passing out on a barstool was the opposite of a good thing for his spine). He'd finally mustered up the motivation to actually leave his room when he stumbled over something at the foot of his bed. Frowning, he knelt down to find a pair of shoes that were a few sizes too big and a few zeroes out of his price range. The expensive leather was covered in something purple and foul-smelling, and Rhys immediately regretted touching it when his fingers came away covered in a sticky residue.

There was a sticky note attached to the shoes, which Rhys opened with slightly shaky fingers.

_Hey cupcake,_

_Get these cleaned for me by Friday or it's coming out of your paycheck._

_-Jack_

_PS: I love you too_

**Author's Note:**

> i live for comments/kudos  
> find me on tumblr [here](dragonbagel.tumblr.com)


End file.
